On Saturday morning at a few minutes after ten, Eric left
his apartment. Moments later, his sneakers slapped against the asphalt surface
of the path leading to Community
Park
Today promised to be as hot as Eastlake Community
would be if the problems that beaded like the sweat on his forehead weren’t
solved. For an instant, he allowed himself to regret the injury that had ended
his career as a cop and his decision to become a nurse, the way his father and
a number of ex-cops he knew had done. During the week since his arrival, he’d
asked himself a dozen times why he’d listened to Sam and applied for the
position as Director of Nursing.
“Something fishy’s going on. I’m not sure who, what or
why. You’ve got the training to dig out the info.”
In the past week, he’d learned a number of facts, but
none were illegal. The nurse managers and supervisors couldn’t see or didn’t
care about the signs of unrest among the nurses. Sometimes, he thought
administration was the problem. But since their contracts protected them, he
couldn’t fire the lot.
He emerged from the tree-sheltered path and stopped to
let a herd of children charge past. Where was Sam and where was the ball field?
His buddy had volunteered him as first base umpire for the game between the
nurses and a team from the other departments.
“Eric, over here.”
He jogged toward the picnic table where Sam sat. The
children returned. With the adroitness he’d once displayed on the football
field, he twisted and evaded until he cleared the crowd.
“Just like old times, my man.” Sam’s brown hand
slapped Eric’s.
“Hardly. Where’s your gaudy uniform?” When Eric had
played football, Sam had been a member of the marching band. He’d also been
pianist for the jazz ensemble. Eric rested his hands on his thighs until he
caught his breath. “I’m too old for this.”
Sam laughed. “At thirty-two? In five minutes, I
guarantee you’ll be rejuvenated.”
“About the game. Fun or serious?”
“A bit of both.” Sam slid from the table. “The captain
and pitcher for the nurses is intense. She likes to win.”
“Is this a warning?”
Sam’s laughter rolled the way his fingers moved along
the piano keys. “You’ll see. Wait ‘til you see her legs. Long and lean and stretching
forever. Simone threatened to blacken my eyes if I leer. Grab a beer and let’s
go.”
When Eric reached the field, he forgot the beer. The
hospital’s problems vanished. He put the beer on the ground several yards from
first base and stared at the pitcher. Sam had been on target.
He studied her exceptional legs until they vanished
beneath brief red shorts. His stare lingered on the white tee shirt that clung
to her small, yet perfect, breasts. Sunlight caught the red glints in her brown
hair and turned them into flames. As she moved from the mound, his body
reacted. How was he going to remember he was her boss?
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